The Scourge of Odin
by NoPenOfMine
Summary: This came from a prompt on LJ a while back where it was requested that Loki become "The Scourge of Odin," the King's greatest weapon.


Thor doesn't notice Loki's absence during the Dark Elves rebellion. To be honest, he doesn't usually notice Loki's absence, the young man often seals himself away in the dark corners of the library or in the dense parts of the woods, places Thor and his friends are unlikely to go, no matter how much they seek his company. So when word came that the Dark Elves had gathered an army, that they planned to make war with Asgard, Thor was more preoccupied with warming up his hammer wielding hand than looking for his bookish younger brother.

He does catch glimpses of Loki in the halls, sees the trail of his green robes turn the corner yards ahead of him. He calls for him, but as soon as he reaches the point he saw Loki, he's already vanished. Like magic. It's been a long time since Asgard had a sorcerer as powerful as Loki, and even with all his skill, making simple doppelgangers of himself was still one of his favorite tricks. What better way to annoy someone who hates you than to make a hundred copies of yourself, each taunting with smart remarks and superior expressions. But Thor has never been keen on magic, and isn't adept at telling when something is the real thing or an illusion in place to fool people into believing he was still at the palace. So he decides Loki just didn't hear him and magicked himself away to a more pressing engagement.

Finally the news comes that the Dark Elves had taken several brutal, crippling blows. Several main flanks of the army were taken out in a bloody, devastating attack that no one still alive witnessed. Not only that, livestock has been taking ill and wild fires have destroyed many large fields of crops and hay. A realm in this shape couldn't afford war now. The rumors of attacks on Asgard stopped and the ones about The Scourge started.

There's not a being alive on the superior eight realms that doesn't fear The Scourge. Whatever it is, it is the most powerful creature in the Nine Realms. Its magic is unparalleled. And it is under the Allfather's command. The Scourge can create plague to kill entire populations, famines to starve them. He can rally the elements to his hand, using fire to burn down worlds, waters to drown them, the earth to swallow them up, and the wind to root them up and bring them crashing down again. It's even thought that with his abilities he could destroy an entire realm, without any weapon like the mighty power of the Bifrost. But no one's made Odin angry enough for that to happen.

Odin calls his advisors and his sons to a minor assembly hall. It's a small meeting, not meant for making battle plans or planning a large overhaul of the trade systems. He sits the all down and Thor notices the questioning look his father gives to Loki before he speaks. His younger brother looks to Odin and gives a furtive nod. It might have been taken as a simple shift in posture if Thor hadn't seen the whole exchange. He means to ask Father about it later, no use asking in Loki, who would put on an innocent face and declare in the most pious way that he had no clue what Thor was talking about. He is given no more time to think on it, though, as Odin tells them that the Dark Elves are no longer a threat, to spread the word to the troops that they may stay in their own homes that night. A few generals glance at each other, doubtless having heard that maybe The Scourge is to thank for it. But no one is going to question the Allfather about The Scourge. They didn't dare.

And later, as Thor is doing his best to get drunk with the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif, his thoughts turn to his younger brother, Loki. Loki, who is as tall as Thor, though not as broad and muscled. Their height is one of the few things they have in common. His raven black hair is perpetually slicked back and his fondness for robes of green, gold and black only highlight the fact that Loki is no typical Asgardian, who favors the bright, bold colors to mark their presence. Loki is a great magician, a skill few possess and most distrust. The Realm Eternal is constantly turning out great and mighty warriors, and while Loki has been known to take out entire platoons of men with nothing but his spear and a few knives, his desire to use magic as his first weapon is not something that settles well with the Realms. There are many who fear that magic cannot be totally controlled. Thor thinks these things and thinks there was something else as well. Something he noticed earlier that hadn't sit well with him. But as another flagon of ale is dropped in front of him, he can't remember for the life of him what it was.

Years pass, hundreds of years. The mortals on Midgard have all died and been born and died again, many times over. They have brought upon themselves wars almost as fierce as those between the Trolls and Dark Elves. They have grown much smarter since the last time Asgard had any official kind of contact with the planet, more than a thousand years ago.

Thor was born; Asgard celebrated the birth of their crown prince. Soon after the babe's first official appearance in court, Laufey, King of Jotunheim, attempted to take over the Nine Realms, starting on Earth. Odin had to leave his wife and new son to fight, to lead an army of mighty warriors who like nothing more than to see a beastly Frost Giant fall beneath their sword.

They ran the Giants off of Earth and followed them back to Jotunheim. They crippled them there, took from them the planets source of power, the Casket of Ancient Winters. It was a short, but fierce war, each side losing many. Half a year had passed on Midgard as the women and children waited for their men to return. None were as happy as Frigga, who with baby Thor in her arms, greeted her husband and king for the first time in many moons. She didn't know what to ask about first. The great gaping wound where her husband's eye once was, or the frail baby with vibrant green eyes now cradled in her arms.

Of course, the court was told, Frigga had been pregnant the entire time. The queen had scarce been seen during the war, busy as she was raising an infant. It was easy to convince the courts that she had been with child all along; hiding it with a heavy glamour in order to make sure the Royal Family didn't look vulnerable while the King was absent. Loki was raised as the Realms second crown prince, the just younger brother of Thor.

A thousand years passed, they grew as close as brother can, played together, then fought together, it seemed they made friends, learned the way Asgardian warriors conducted themselves, in public and on the battle field. But during their adolescent years they changed deep under the surface. At first glance nothing was different, but a close look yielded that a deep rift was growing.

Thor was oblivious, as always. If it wasn't in front of his face then he didn't give it a thought. Loki, on the other hand, he saw what other did not. He saw the way his father's face changed when his gaze shifted from Thor to Loki. How his friends seemed to enjoy the brawling company of Thor more often.

He felt alienated, lonely. Resentment built in him, he hated the way he was shadowed by the golden glow that Thor gave of wherever he went. He wanted to be something great too.

It was shortly after Thor was given Mjolnir. The pomp and circumstance was appalling. Everything was a gaudy splash of red and blue and a particularly blinding gold.

Mjolnir was a magnificent weapon, when it was first discovered any man who thought he was worthy of its power lined up try to lift it. Then came Bor, Odin's father. He did not have the great hammer long before his death and since then it lay in the weapons vault of the palace. Every few years Thor and Loki were guided down in hopes that the hammer deemed one of them worthy.

Now they were on the cusp of manhood. Loki looked at the hammer of legend and felt nothing. No envy, no desire to wield it in battle. Instead he found his gaze wandering to the Casket that sat on a pedestal in the back of the room. He remembered the day their father showed them the Casket and told them of the war with Jotunheim. His fingers itched to hold it, to see what power it held in the whirling blue depths.

He was ripped from these thoughts, smothered by a cacophony of light and noise that made him double over holding his ears. It stopped. He looked to his father. The old man's face was filled with pride. Loki loved that look, though it was rarely directed at him. It seemed the whole palace had shaken with the reverberation of the thunder called when Thor lifted Mjolnir. The palace shook, then celebrated.

Odin's speech was short and sweet, "Mjolnir, forged in the heart of a dying star. A weapon of war or a tool to build…"

Loki sat on the steps behind a pillar away from the feast, watching a particularly fetching girl stand with her friends. Sigyn, he thought her name was. She was from Vanir. Petite, with blonde curly hair tumbling down her back and was one of the few women not drunkenly throwing themselves at any handsome young man in attendance. He had almost made up his mind to approach her, when he felt someone's gaze upon him.

He looked up, straight into the pale blue eye of the Allfather, who had been watching the drunken revel that the celebratory feast had turned into. He looked to Sigyn then back to his father. Odin stood quietly, beckoning him to follow as he made his way to the doors at the back of the large chamber. Loki was puzzled for a reason for this, but couldn't deny his father anything. He shot one last longing glance at the beautiful Sigyn and made to follow.

He trailed a few feet behind his father and said nothing. The Allfather only spoke when he wanted to. They walked silently through the halls of their home, finally stopping before a room Loki hadn't entered before, though not for lack of trying. This was one of the ceremony rooms for the Earth Gods and Goddesses. Usually a place only the priests and King or Queen were allowed. Its design was similar to that of the weapons vault, though on a much larger scale. Loki took in the impressive arched ceiling and towering columns, his face betraying none of his wonder.

Giant bonfires were burning in alcoves set along the walls of the long room. At the far end, pushed back into the wall on top of a giant pedestal, sat what looked to be a large bowl, containing an even larger blaze than the ones on the ground. In front of that sat a large round pool of water, the surface perfectly still. The roar of all the fires combined filled Loki's ears while the flickering glows set shadows in motion across every surface. They walked to the pool of the water and stood, still silent, at its edge.

Odin stared into water. Loki closed his eyes and listened contently to the symphony created from the crackling flames, waiting for his father to speak. He quickly ran through the events of the day, searching for any glitch, anything that he could be blamed for. There had been no incident he could recall, at least one that had been seen as his fault. Really, you couldn't blame Fandral groping one girl to many and getting shoved into a table rich with food on Loki. He finally pushed all thought out of his head and didn't allow himself to worry.

Time passed. Minutes. Hour's maybe.

Finally, a deep voice. "Loki."

He took a deep breath through the nose and turned clear green eyes on his father.

"You are my son. No matter what happens in this lifetime you must never forget that."

Loki said nothing.

"You have a great gift, one that has seen no equal for many hundreds of years. Your magic and your skill in battle make you a figure unique in Asgard."

Loki's brow furrows, wondering what direction Odin means to take this.

"I don't understand," he breathes quietly, not wanting to break the stillness imbibed into the room.

Odin is silent once more, but in his eye Loki can see the thoughts battling each other in his mind. The King clenches his jaw and turns resolutely, his eye firm on Loki. The young man raises both brows in askance.

"I want you to become The Scourge." He rumbles out. Loki is more confused than he has ever been in his entire life and his countenance shows it for a moment before he reels it in and turns it back into a stony, blank stare.

The Allfather heaves a breath. "You know of the Scourge of Odin, yes?"

"Yes, of course, Father," he assures him. "From our tutors, when Thor and I were young."

"You are young still. The Scourge is the mightiest force in existence. It is the Destroyer of Worlds. It is the Kings Whip. Though it is but a man."

Loki lets out a nervous breath. "I don't understand," he says falteringly. "What, precisely, are you asking?"

Odin blinks. "When you were still in swaddling clothes, the last Scourge died, as all men do. Until now I had not found another worthy to replace him. You, my son, are worthy."

Loki shakes his head for a moment, unused to being found worthy of something. "But what about Thor? Surely he is a better fighter than I, better suited to the task."

An amused snort escapes the king, "No, no. Thor could never perform the tasks required. The Scourge must be able to think at all times, under the greatest pressure. Thor cannot."

Loki wonders if Mjolnir knows this and whether the hammer would still deem his elder brother worthy if it did. He stares at the pool again, flipping through his thoughts, trying to make sense of his father's request. Odin, the Allfather, the King of Asgard. He wants a mage, Loki, to become The Scourge. The most feared being in the Nine Realms. Loki, not Thor.

"What does Heimdall think of this? And Mother?" The questions slip out before he can stop them.

"They know not. There are facets of Asgard that cannot be shared, even with those you trust most," he paused for a moment, searching Loki's face. "The business of The Scourge is shielded from Heimdall's gaze; if it weren't then the man would never be allowed on the Bifrost, as powerful a weapon he is. Even now, the Guardian cannot see us."

Loki is still not sure he believes it. He would be Asgard's greatest weapon, their mightiest warrior, the epitome of all they praise and fear- and they would never know it. It's a heavy secret, not to be shared. Not even his mother would know, the only one he can really trust with secrets. He couldn't tell Thor or Lady Sif or the Warriors Three in order to impress them next time they got around to mocking his magic.

But he would still be great. He would be the Allfather's secret weapon. He would be trusted with things not even Heimdall, the All-Seeing, would know. He would be something great.

"I don't ask you to make the choice now, Loki," Odin says, in a quiet, soothing tone. "Only think of the kingdom, and if you would use your skill to protect it. But do not think too long. I will ask for your decision tomorrow evening."

"No."

The silence that comes after is deafening. Odin stares. Loki straightens his shoulders and hardens his gaze.

"I will do it."

The Allfather wastes no time. "Very well. We will begin."

Loki removes all the ceremonial clothes he had donned for Thor's Big Day, now standing in only his dark green tunic and black pants. He kneels before the Allfather as the man recites ancient spells.

Loki can feel the spell shudder to life after hundreds of years of inactivity. He feels it as it swims around him, sizing him up, seeing if he is worthy of the power it brings. It's old magic, older than anything Loki has worked with before, and for a second he wants to reach out to his father and say he changed his mind. He doesn't, just listens to the sound of Odin's voice. Deep and soft.

The Allfather stops chanting. He guides Loki to the edge of the pool. He instructs the young man to submerge himself fully, the water being a catalyst for the power of The Scourge and Loki.

He is waist high in the water now, facing Odin. He crosses his hands over his chest and takes a readying breath. He falls backwards into the water, keeping his eyes open. The last thing he sees is his father, and he is overcome.


End file.
